


wayward thoughts

by pleadingforclarity



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, also other people appreciating the aos is also my thing, skimmons is my platonic otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleadingforclarity/pseuds/pleadingforclarity
Summary: ben hasn't heard a mind as loud as hers,nor has he felt a bond as strong as the one she has with a gold-painted woman.





	wayward thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> played around with ben's abilities so i could write something that made me happy/sad. my second fic on a03! hope you like it!

he has been listening to people’s thoughts since he was 18. it’s his thing.  
his ability.  
his “talent”.  
his curse. 

in that arena, sure, he focuses on listening to his opponent. he has to.

but for as long as he is able,  
before they turn off his “gift”  
with the device implanted behind his ear,  
he searches,  
scours,  
sifts through thoughts- for kasius’s. 

he hopes,  
(in vain),  
that he’ll hear about his family, or what’s left of it, buried inside the kree’s mind.

so, during a routine exhibition of his abilities, he stretches his reach past his opponent’s mind, into the viewing area above him,  
and searches.

over everyone,  
he hears _hers _.__

_jemma jemma what is this place jesus christ are they watching for fun? i need to find her i need to get out of here who is he what is this jesus jemma where are you i need to get back to them jemma jemma simmons where are you damn it ___

__

it takes him a moment to focus back on the fight, but he finishes it, faster than usual, so he can focus back on her. 

he sees faces, so many of them, all ragged and worn, and a small statue of a woman in a plant-like skirt moving her hips back and forth, back and forth,  
over and over. 

he sees radio equipment through tears and a glance of a woman’s face from an odd angle, like she’s laying on one of the medic’s tables. the woman smiles grimly at him. 

he sees a grayish stone melting and  
_holy shit is that beef how do they why do they where?_

“they grow it,” he says, snapping out of his stupor, and she responds like they always do, disbelief and then wonder and then-  
no.  
there’s no resignation in this one.  
he fixes his gaze on her. 

she is... _different._

_who the fuck does this guy think he is deke you asshole my wrists ache get me out of here where is the nearest exit they are watching us from up there all the time all the time god jemma i need you to appear out of thin fucking air now_

he wants to ask her who she is, which base she is from, why she is there, and who jemma is- above all, _who the hell jemma is_. 

he digs deeper, searching for memory, searching for something to explain- 

a pale woman, the same one with the grim smile, in what looks like a laboratory, tears drying on her cheeks. _sacrifice_. 

a man with curls and scruff holding hands that are trembling and bruised and speaking softly in an accent he’s never heard before. _trust_. 

a plane. she doesn't call it that. a woman’s arms wrap around someone, utter relief. her hair is wet, and it clings to- 

the beeping of the device, the thoughts gone.

“and there we go,” he sighs. 

he watches her as he is forced out of the arena.  
she’s like me, he thinks.  
and although he has no proof, he realizes-  
_she’s one of us_. 

the next time he is able to hear her,  
she is standing, face to face, with the woman who had smiled the grim smile and been drenched in the wet hair. 

_jemma_

except her lips are painted gold and she cannot hear her friend. 

_hey, you’ve found her_ , he wants to say. _at least you have her in your sight. at least you know she's safe._

while kasius finishes up his lengthy speech, he scours their minds as fast as he can. image after image. 

green. mountains crumbling. something falling from the sky and jemma’s hand in someone else’s. _betrayal_. an embrace in a dark hallway, wrists weak. _love_. a chest rising and falling, rising in falling, a steady beeping sound accompanying it. a frustrated kiss. two cars, one red and the other black, with their owners, one middle-aged and the other gruff and with his brow furrowed. the same curly-haired man pointing a gun. his gun gone, trapping himself in a white room, apart from everyone. _guilt._ a team torn apart. 

words carry him back to reality. spiteful ones.  
“of course, there's no way I can tell for certain if you're being honest. but he can.” 

ben acknowledges kasius, and gets to work. _his_ work. 

and afterwards, he tells her- _daisy_ \- he did it to protect his family. and, he realizes, hers too. "you have people you care about. heard that much” 

“maybe it’s time we change the rules of his game,” she quips, arching her brow. 

_god, her expression_. so determined, so hopeful. 

yeah,  
he had told himself that if he ever broke the unspoken inhuman code of “every man for himself” he might as well open a hatch door and suffocate to death. 

but as he looks at her,  
_quake_ ,  
a woman with more to lose than he does-  
he decides to let kasius try kill him first. 


End file.
